Falling
by dirkywirky
Summary: Boredom is not fun. Not fun at all. Do try not to get bored in N.E.W.T level Charms, along with a bored Draco Malfoy, a piece of parchment, a pen and some chalk. Things get out of hand. Very. Out of hand. R&R please! T 'cause i'm paranoid.
1. Pens and Green Ink

Chapter 1

Boredom is _not_ fun. Not fun _at all_. Do try not to get bored in N.E.W.T level Charms, along with a bored Draco Malfoy, a piece of parchment, a pen and some chalk. Things get out of hand and they spiral down into something that spirals even_ further_ down into the abyss of craziness until it hits rock bottom. That rock bottom is just a mirage, and it just so happens to make you fall _even_ _further_ into something you would never expect to spark between a Granger and a Malfoy.

This begins, as I said, in N.E.W.T level Charms class, directly after lunch, in the middle of October, during my 'Eighth' year. The lesson was over, and we had about half an hour left in the period. People had fallen asleep, drooling on their desks, some muggleborns had started playing paper football, an American game, some girls (Gryffindor and Slytherin alike) had whipped out magazines and started to whisper and laugh about the latest gossip or whatnot, and still some had taken to practicing Banishing Charms.

I, for one, had started on the homework that had been assigned to us. I was about three questions in, when something hit the back of my skull, and bounced off. I furrowed my brow, and looked around to see the source of it. I saw nothing and nobody behind me, so I just shrugged it off. I had probably just imagined it, anyways.

I had barley written down three more words, when something hit me again, this time impacting the area directly over my left ear. I whipped my head around, and I glared at my tablemate, Draco Malfoy, who was 'innocently' staring out the window, leaning back onto his chair, and hands behind his head. I narrowed my eyes and sniffed, looking away.

_Damn Flitwick and his stupid seating charts…_ I thought, as my eyes landed on a piece of broken chalk. _Could this be…? _I wondered. I looked at Malfoy again, who was now rubbing his fingers together, stained with what seemingly looked like… chalk dust. I pieced two and two together, and I poked his arm.

He whipped around, glaring at me indignantly. "What was that for, Granger?" he hissed.

I silently held up the piece of chalk and cocked an eyebrow at him. Malfoy glared at me as hard as humanly possible, and if looks could kill, I'd be just a speck of dirt on the far wall. I stared at him, eyes flicking over his pale face.

I could see his mouth twitching into what could be a smile, but I deduced it would turn into a- There it goes. He smirked and said "Granger, as much as that chalk seems of importance to you, I have no idea what you're going on about, barmy old-" I rolled my eyes, and I chucked the chalk at him. It hit his nose, and he jumped back. "Hey!" he yelped.

"If you're going to lie about throwing that at me, then you might as well take it back." I said, scribbling out a word with my pen. I decided to use it instead of a quill, because I just didn't want the ink to smear when I shoved it into my bag when the bell rang. I could feel Malfoy's eyes boring into the side of my skull, and I couldn't concentrate. I groaned, and I stuffed the worksheet into my bag. Instead, I pulled out a spare piece of parchment, and I started to doodle idly. I started to sketch the ears of a cat, when I felt the pen being taken from my hands. "Hey!" I shouted. "What the…" I stopped when I saw Draco examining the pen, a look of utmost concentration and curiosity on his face.

"What," Draco sneered, "the bloody hell, is _this_?" He brandished the pen in my face.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, a small smile threatening to take over my face. "A muggle writing utensil called a '_pen_'." I said, using a tone used normally with little children. I snatched the pen back and I drew a doodle flower quickly on my spare parchment, my drawing of Crookshanks forgotten. "See?" I said. "It's like a quill, but the ink dries faster…"I swiped my finger over the doodle, "and it doesn't smudge. Try it." I tossed the pen in his direction. "You can keep it too, I've got loads more."

I turned to dig another pen out of my bag when the blue pen I was using clattered down on my desk. "No thanks, Granger, I don't use _muggle_ products, thank you very much."

I rolled my eyes again. "Whatever," I said. "But don't come crying to me when you want a green one."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Wait, you have a green one? Let me see!" He cried, acting like a small child, tempted with sweets.

"Nuh-uh-uh, Malfoy!_ You_ just said that you don't use _muggle_ products, so I don't see why you'd want it. I see you've got green ink right there." I said, gesturing towards his green inkwell and eagle feather quill. He quickly swiped his arm over the inkwell, making it topple over onto the floor, greenish-black ink oozing across the stones.

"Now I don't. Hand it over, Granger." He said, holding his hand out.

_Has he gone mad?_ I wondered. _He's acting so oddly… _"No, I will not just _hand it over_, ferret. I don't see why you're obsessing over this one little thing! Why don't you go out and _buy your OWN?_" I growled, punctuating the last few words with a whack from my now battered doodle parchment.

"There, there Granger, _love,_" Malfoy whispered, sarcasm dripping from every word. _"_Why don't you let Draco dearest give you a nice, long sha-"

"I swear, Malfoy, if you _dare_ finish that sentence, I will…" I trailed off on my jab, trying to think of something more creative than 'shove a stick up your arse'.

"What will you do Granger?" Malfoy hissed. "What could you _possibly _do to me that might damage your _oh-so-perfect _school record?"

I just rolled my eyes and looked away from him. "I could give you a swift kick to your non-existent bollocks if that's what you're asking for…" I muttered quietly enough so that I _thought _that he couldn't hear me.

"What did you say, Granger?" Malfoy drawled, smirking evermore. "What would you like to do to my bollocks?" He asked, loud enough for everybody within three meters of us could hear.

Many heads turned towards us, and I said, sarcastically "Why, _Draco darling_ what bollocks could you possibly be going on about? Last time I checked, you didn't have any." There were 'Ooooooh's and many a laugh. Malfoy glared at me.

"Would you like to check again _sweetie_? Because I could shove them up your pretty little arse, you b-" He growled, but I cut him off.

"You've been staring at my arse, Malfoy? How sweet. I didn't know you had a _thing_ for mudbl-" Quick as lightning, he stood up, knocking over his chair, grabbed my wrists and pulled me close. It must be the seeker reflexes.

"You listen here, _Granger_. I never have, never will have a thing for filthy mudbloods like _YOU!_" He spat. "Now shove off you little bitch, or I'll make you wish you never existed. Got it?"

I said nothing, but I glared at him._ Damn purebloods! _I thought. _They think they're _SO_ superior to muggleborns and half-bloods, but they're really not. I've met more muggles who are twenty times the man than YOU ever will be! _I shouted at him in my head. We glared at each other brown eyes looking into gray ones, and it was then that I realized that we were very close, noses nearly touching and foreheads mere millimeters apart. My face turned red, and I looked away, trying to yank my wrists away from his bruising grasp. People were staring, and I knew it. Before anything else could happen though, he cupped my jaw with his right hand, his left still holding my wrists captive. He wrenched my head around and made me look at him again.

"I didn't hear you, Granger. Do. You. Under. Stand?" he hissed. I refused to answer him, still. "ANSWER ME, GRANGER!" he roared, his nails digging into the soft flesh of my face. I tried not to wince, and I still refused to answer.

Suddenly, I saw a flash of movement over Malfoy's left shoulder. It was Francis Bonnefoy, the French exchange student from Beauxbatons, sneaking up behind my blonde enemy. I realized what he was going to do a fraction of a second too late. I opened my mouth to retaliate against Francis' actions, when he took the opportunity to strike. He gave Malfoy a shove, propelling him forwards, his mouth landing on mine.

Our teeth clacked together painfully, and his tongue (weather purposely, or accidentally, I'm still not sure) invaded my mouth. Our eyes widened, and I pushed him away. I felt my face become redder than it already was, and I looked away. I shoved all of my stuff into my bag, and I left Malfoy standing there, dumbstruck, with a pen and five minutes of class left to go.

* * *

><p><strong>I <em>will<em> be continuing this, and i hope you enjoy. REVIEW! please? yes, Francis Bonnefoy. I had to. X3 i was just too lazy to make up a new character. yeah...**


	2. Threats and Book Paradise

**AN: I love writing in Draco's POV. It's so fun! X3 a lot of swearing in this chapter. BEWARE OF DRACO'S POTTY MOUTH! BEWAREBEWAREBEWAREBEWAREBE- *shot* **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter universe, J.K. Rowling does. I also do not own Francis Bonnefoy, he belongs to the creator of Hetalia. I'm sorry if I got the French wrong, I used Google Translate. Please correct me if I'm wrong! I know at least one of my readers is from France!**

Chapter 2

(Draco POV)

_Our teeth clacked together painfully, and my tongue (weather purposely, or accidentally, I'm still not sure) invaded her mouth. Our eyes widened, and she pushed me away. I saw her face become redder than it already was, and she looked away. She shoved all of her stuff into her bag, and left me standing there, dumbstruck, with a pen and five minutes of class left to go._

What. The. Bloody. Hell. Just. Happened? Did I- I just… did I just kiss… no. No. _I _didn't kiss her. Not on purpose at least. I turned around stiffly, facing that bloody _French_ guy Francis, who had the audacity to _smirk_ at me. Smirk!

"You… you _**IDIOT!**_ What the fuck was that? Why did you do that? _**WHY?**_" I growled, my wand instantly between his eyes, hideous curses and jinxes running through my mind, almost always coming back to _Avada Kedavra_. _Maybe I _should_ just kill him and be done with it. It would save the world a _lot_ of trouble._

"There eez lots of unresolved sexual tension between you two, non? So I thought I should just _repandre l'amour (spread the love)._" Francis said simply, unafraid of the wand pointing at his forehead.

I swear my eye twitched. "_Repandre… l'amour… sexual tension_… what? Okay, let's get this straight; you think there's sexual tension between me and bloody _GRANGER_? And you want to _spread the love?_ WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I roared. "Give me two good reasons why I shouldn't murder you, right now."

I guess Flitwick _had_ to choose right now to walk in, back from the mishap in the transfiguration department. "Mr. Malfoy! What are you doing? Put your wand away this instant and fifty points from Slytherin house." The small professor squeaked.

Still glaring at Bonnefoy, I sheathed my wand and stiffly sat down. I slowly put my hands on the desk, when my fingers brushed against a round object. My glare faltered and I looked down at the object. It was Granger's pen. I picked it up, and not caring who saw, pocketed it as the bell rang. It wasn't as if she wanted it back, right? I slowly gathered all of my stuff, and I made my way down to the great hall for dinner.

* * *

><p>(Hermione POV)<p>

_Oh. My. Gosh. That did _not_ just happen. Did it? _I raced through the halls, darting through tapestries, and up stairs, all the way towards the Room of Requirement. I sighed as I reached the hallway, which was badly burned. Did it really work after… after… _that_? I sighed, and I thought _might as well try. What could happen?_ I walked three times in front of the stretch of wall, thinking '_I need a place to hide, to think… I need to just _get away_ from it all.'_Upon my third passing, to my relief, a door appeared.

My hand was on the knob when I hesitated- what if I found something ghastly, like Crabbe's scorched remains, or nothing but ashes? What if the whole thing collapsed and- wait, Hermione, stop it. That's _not_ going to happen, and everything will be _just fine._

I set my jaw, and I confidently opened the door. What I saw was… perfect. A sanctuary, a freshly mown grass clearing with the smell I loved so much, along with piles of books stacked everywhere, and bookcases surrounding me.

It wasn't just a perfect study, and a getaway, oh no, it was more than that. It was a sanctuary. My personal haven. Paradise. And nobody needed to know about this.

I walked in, jaw slack with wonder. I guess I could skip dinner… No. I could come back here after dinner, but nobody would question if I brought a book. I skimmed the titles, but I came back to one. It was called 'Blood: Is it Important?' by P. H. M. Blood. It looked… interesting… so I picked it up, and carried it down to the Great Hall, but not before mentally telling the door not to open for anybody except for me, Hermione Jean Granger. It couldn't hurt to be specific, right?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: sorry this is so short, i kind of stopped writing this near the ending of hermione's POV, soo... yeah. P. H. M. Blood stands for Pure, Half, and Muggle. Or Mud, but whatever. That's not the author's real name, I just needed something like that. X3 See you next chapter! Oh, by the way, i just made that book up. Yeah...<strong>


End file.
